Lady Alexandra's Excellent Adventure: A Summersby Tale (10 page)

“Now then, Ashford, what is it that you would like to discuss?” William inquired, returning the harquebus to its velvet-lined case.

Michael spared a quick glance in Alexandra’s direction. She could feel herself growing tense and nervous. “Surely you must be able to imagine why I’ve come,” he said.

“Indeed, I believe I know precisely why you have come, though I really wish you would have stayed away. Your interference is likely to ruin everything.”

“Are you telling me that you are
not
in league with the French?”

William leaned back against his chair, pressing two arched fingers against his lips and regarded Michael from behind hooded eyes. “I have no intention of telling you anything—at least not yet,” he replied.

Alexandra took a sharp breath, but if Michael registered it, he didn’t react. Instead, he kept his eyes pinned on William. “There are many who would consider such a statement a confession of your guilt.”

“And what, pray tell, are you suggesting that I am guilty of?” William asked with genuine curiosity, so genuine in fact that Alexandra could see that Michael was momentarily thrown.

“Treason.”

Alexandra gasped, horrified by Michael’s casual bluntness. She didn’t miss the tightening of William’s jaw, however, and knew in that instant, without any shadow of a doubt, that her brother was innocent. He had just taken great offence to Michael’s accusation, though she knew he was trying his best not to show it.

“And I suppose Sir Percy sent you to verify this?” he asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “By the by, would you care telling me
why
you would suspect such a thing?”

“Mr. Finch was kind enough to inform us that you might be tempted to indiscretion and that an investigation might be necessary. In fact, I should like to have a word with the man myself if I may. Do you know where I might find him?”

William stared at Michael for a moment as if wondering how much to tell him. “I do not know,” he finally muttered. “In fact, I have not seen him in over a month.”

“Listen, William”—Alexandra cut in—“why not simply explain the whole situation to Lord Trenton. I am sure you can easily convince him of your innocence. And once you do, we will be more than willing to help you in your cause.”

“And just what exactly
is
my cause, Alex?”

“Why, to stop whatever attack Bonaparte is planning from ever happening.”

“A tall order, wouldn’t you agree?” William’s eyes flashed with something that Alexandra didn’t recognize, or like for that matter. “You should not have come. Quite frankly, I do not know what you were thinking. It’s much too dangerous.”

“But—” Alexandra began.

“Please excuse me. I have other matters to attend to today.” William’s cool gaze held hers before turning to Michael. “I trust you will see yourselves out?”

Unable to hide the shock or disappointment that she felt at her brother’s words, Alexandra rose to her feet and turned numbly toward the door.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

“A
re you all right?” Michael asked.

It seemed like a silly question, considering all that had happened in the course of the past hour, yet it was better than the relentless silence that filled the carriage.

“I know he’s innocent,” Alexandra persisted. “I just don’t understand why he chose not to convince you of it when he had the opportunity.”

Her faith in her brother really was quite remarkable under the circumstances. Then again, it was only natural that she wouldn’t want to believe him capable of any crime. He was her brother. Alexandra had probably admired him her whole life. “Are you quite certain that you have not misjudged him?” he asked.

Her eyes immediately skewered him. “I realize how skeptical you must be after what just happened, but I assure you, William is
not
collaborating with Bonaparte.”

“Then how do you explain his reluctance to include us in his plans? He had the chance but chose instead to send us on our merry way. I’m sorry, my lady, but what reason do I have to trust him when he did not make the slightest attempt at defending himself?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, turning her head to look out of the window at the glistening water of the River Seine. “I just know what my heart tells me.”

Biting back a remark that would do nothing but widen the rift he felt forming between them, Michael chose instead to lean forward and place his hand on hers in comfort. “I hope you’re right, I truly do. I just hope that you will not bear any ill will toward me, should it turn out that you are not.”

“Well.” She managed to smile at him, her eyes twinkling with sudden mischief. “We shall just have to find out the truth about the matter, shan’t we?”

Michael was instantly on edge. He should have known this woman might have something up her sleeve. “I suppose you have a plan?” he asked.

“A very simple one, now that you mention it.”

“Really?” He wondered if his voice sounded as dubious as he felt. “What is it?”

“We will simply have to ask Mr. Finch and see what
he
has to say about the matter. If he’s disappeared, then perhaps there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Michael would have laughed had she not been so thoroughly serious. Instead, he groaned, for he knew Alexandra well enough by now to understand that if he didn’t help her, she’d attempt something stupid on her own. “Simple indeed,” he muttered.

“Well, yes. Of course there is the minor detail of finding out where he is.”

“And just how exactly do you propose that we go about discovering Mr. Finch’s whereabouts?”

“Not sure, but perhaps it’s time for me to use my feminine wiles,” she said with a wry smile.

With a deep sigh, Michael leaned back in his seat and pretended to look out of the window. What the devil was he going to do about this woman? One thing was for sure, he thoroughly disliked the idea of Alexandra using her
feminine wiles
on anyone other than him. God help him if somebody else put their filthy hands on her . . .

Casting a sideways glance in her direction, he couldn’t help but take in the lovely curve of her breasts as they pressed against her Spencer. Once again, he wondered how they might compare to those of Aphrodite’s . . . how soft they’d feel beneath his touch . . . the taste of them as he . . .

With an inward groan, he thought of Ryan, and then of his own sisters and how protective he’d always been of them. If he succumbed to temptation, then Ryan would naturally force him to marry Alexandra. After all, that was what
he
would do in his place.

It was true that he’d had more mistresses than anyone might consider reasonable, but that didn’t alter the fact that he was a gentleman to the bone. None of those women had been ladies of breeding, and those who had been were widows. None of them had been extraordinary and none of them had offered him their innocence.

He cast another glance at her, this time focusing on her profile, her long eyelashes, her delicate nose, and her luscious, oh-so kissable lips.

Would it be such a hardship to marry the woman?

He was genuinely stunned to discover that he wasn’t actually trembling with fear at the sudden thought of marriage. What a peculiar thing. He loved his life; the freedom he had to be gone from home all night, no questions asked as he roamed the city—visiting his club, his favorite gambling hell, or one of his mistresses. It was true that he was his father’s heir and that the old man had more than once broached the topic of Michael seeking a wife, but settling down just sounded like such a bore. The way he saw it, he’d be more than happy to name his nephew Gareth his heir once the time came for him to draw up a will. As it was, the eight-year-old already seemed more responsible than Michael imagined he would ever be. All he really wanted was to enjoy life. Marriage . . . well, it just seemed so confining.

Yet, his run in with Alexandra, the kiss they’d shared, not to mention his rather serious conversation with Ryan, had forced him to reevaluate his priorities. It was very odd indeed, but as far as Alexandra Summersby was concerned, the notion of marriage seemed to thrill him more than the prospect of a possible seduction did. Life with Alexandra would never be dull or boring. She was simply too boisterous and adventurous, too unruly and vivacious. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Michael knew to the very depth of his soul that she was the only woman he’d met he would ever consider making his wife.

And since Alexandra would be required to find a husband sooner or later anyway, why shouldn’t that man be him? Which made his desperate attraction to her far less of a hardship. Judging by her reaction to his kiss last night, she had to feel the same way about him. But was he willing to get himself leg shackled for the sake of satisfying his own carnal needs? It was preposterous. And yet, Michael found his heart suddenly racing with keen excitement, so rapidly in fact that he was forced to wonder if it might be damaging to his health.

Marriage. It was the only honorable way to go about tackling the problem that had been forever plaguing his mind this past week. And considering that she was a lady—albeit an unusual one who was bound to give him trouble—the
only
way to go about it without ruining her.

“D
o you know where your brother might be?” Michael asked Alexandra upon returning to the apartment and removing his gloves. Now that he’d decided what to do, he had every intention of approaching the task in the correct manner. He would ask for Ryan’s permission to court her.

Immediately, and with great haste.

Indeed, he wasn’t sure how much longer he might be capable of restraining himself, knowing full well that she slept with nothing more than a thin wall between them.

He watched her now as she unbuttoned her Spencer with a slow laziness that made him want to tear the jacket from her shoulders himself. As it fell away, however, he saw that his patience had been greatly rewarded. Letting out a steady breath, he clenched his fists in an effort to gain control of his disobedient body. Already he could feel blood rushing toward his groin while his eyes settled helplessly upon the rise and fall of her bosom.

Lord, give me strength!

Her waistline was high, as fashion decreed, her neckline scooped low . . . too low—if such a thing was possible. But who was he to complain? His mouth had grown dry several seconds ago and his . . . Michael quickly removed his hat from his head and held it in front of himself, hoping the gesture wouldn’t seem too obvious.

“I believe he mentioned he had an appointment of some sort,” Alexandra said.

“Hm?”

She laid her Spencer on the nearest chair. “Ryan . . . you asked me where he might be?”

Michael watched as she turned her gaze on him for the first time since entering the apartment, her eyes widening as though she was suddenly startled by something. Unable to help himself, he served her a crooked smile in response. He knew he was staring, and judging from the sudden blush upon her skin, he also knew that the hunger he felt for her must be quite visible in his dark brown eyes.

She sucked in a sharp breath, but in doing so, she naturally forced her breasts even higher—increasing the swell they made as they lurched against her restraining bodice. It was all Michael could do not to start drooling.

“Would you like me to take that for you?” she asked, gesturing to his hat.

“I’m not entirely certain that would be a good idea,” he managed as he felt himself tighten even more.

Her eyes stared at his hat, narrowing slightly as if she found the positioning of it rather peculiar, then widening as she quickly looked away.

“I er . . . I . . .” she faltered and seemed to drag her gaze back to his face, presumably determined not to appear too flustered, yet she couldn’t possibly have appeared more so. It was all too much—he didn’t want to smile or laugh even, but he simply couldn’t help but grin at her
very
apparent discomfiture.

Was that a gulp? Good Lord, she really was having a difficult time of it. Funny thing that. He was the one standing at attention, yet for some absurd reason, he felt completely calm and collected at present—presumably because she was being so wonderfully distracting right now.

She took a deep breath, and then exhaled it very, very slowly. Michael remained silent, allowing her a moment to calm her nerves. She still looked flustered, though, and more than just a little uncomfortable. What would she do next? Presumably make an excuse of some sort before running off to hide in her room. He realized that he was still smiling, which really wasn’t fair at all. He made another attempt at a serious expression, and failed, yet again.

And then the most remarkable thing happened. Squaring her shoulders, Alexandra met his gaze dead on. Whatever discomfort she’d just been feeling had completely vanished—swept away beneath a sultry veneer that made his heart leap. Why wasn’t she busy making her escape? She gave him a little smile and a scorching heat flooded him from his head to his toes. Did she realize that she was playing with fire? He ought to warn her, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was watch her face, her lips, which seemed to dimple ever so slightly in one corner, her eyes, which seemed to draw him in. And then she blinked, as she drew a tight breath, and he realized with great fascination that she wasn’t nearly as confident as she was trying to let on. Whatever her agenda might be, she was clearly trying to appear more sophisticated and knowledgeable than she was, and there was something very charming about that somehow. He couldn’t help but admire her efforts.

“My lord,” she whispered in a rather seductive voice as she took a step toward him. His skin began to tingle. She looked determined, and he knew then, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that she was trying to seduce him.
Good God!
He held his breath. He didn’t want her coming any closer, but he didn’t want to move either—indeed, he didn’t think himself capable. Yet he was the more experienced of the two. He had to stop her; he simply had to.

Her gaze was unwavering, the edge of her lips curled upward in an almost predatory smile. His stomach tightened as she paused before him—so close, he could almost see the sparks of energy flowing between them.

“May I take your hat, my lord?”

A whoosh of air escaped Michael’s lungs at that one simple question. It wasn’t so much the question itself, but the way in which she’d asked it, her voice low and inviting. He’d be lucky if he survived to see another day.
Lord, help me.

She tilted her head a little, as if she was pondering something, then licked her lips before biting down ever so gently on her bottom lip—a mesmerizing motion, that Michael could not tear his eyes away from. More blood raced toward his groin, hardening him even further. He held onto his hat with all his might, trying desperately to gain some semblance of control before it abandoned him completely.

Alexandra reached down and tugged at the brim, her hands brushing softly against the smooth fabric of his trousers.

“Lady Alexandra, I—” he said, his voice sounded distant in his own ears. He had to pull himself together—for both of their sakes.

“Please, call me, Alex,” she murmured.

He cleared his throat and took a step backward, determined to put an end to this while he was still able. He watched as she straightened, her eyes narrowing as if with confusion.

“Very well then . . .” he said, deciding that it might be time to start explaining things to her. Surely she would understand. “Alex . . . you are a lady, and I . . . well, this is highly irregular, don’t you agree? Besides, your brother will most likely kill me, or worse, if he discovers us together . . . like this. After all, I promised him that I wouldn’t . . . I was hoping that . . .” he said as he raked his hand through his hair in agitation. “Dash it all, there are consequences, you know!” His voice wavered on the last part—not very convincing at all, he realized.

He watched her, hoping that she’d find his words a bit more believable than he did, but apparently she didn’t, because instead of turning away, she raised a challenging eyebrow and edged toward him once more, her eyes watching him closely as he felt his resolve begin to falter. When she leaned into him, every last honorable contemplation of stopping the inevitable fled. He dropped his hat, his hands reached for her and his head dipped toward the pure delight she so willingly offered. All rational thought abandoned him, and he knew that he was lost—completely and utterly beyond saving.